Sorel stared at the girl.
"What a beauty. Sorel thought. She had long, silky brown hair, wearing a buttoned white shirt and a gold skirt. She smelled like paradise. Her eyes narrow in confusion, leaning closer towards Sorel.
"I said, can you hear me?" Sorel instantly snaps out of his zone out, immediately adjusting his posture. After all, this is the first time he's ever talked to a noble.
"Oh-Uh, yeah, I heard you!" Sorel croaked. "Shit, I messed up!" He pondered.
The girl's expression stays the same—she straightens from her lean, staring at my clothes before gasping.
"Oh my gosh," She yelled. "You're one of them special entrances? Wow. I can't imagine having my village burned, poor you." She started chuckling as if it were a mere joke.
Sorel didn't answer.
His jaw tightened instead. Fingers curled slowly at his sides, nails biting into his palm as he forced himself to somehow stay still. The joke echoed louder in his head than her laughter ever could.
Burned villages weren't punchlines. Especially when she doesn't know how it feels.
He exhaled through his nose, sharp and controlled, and looked away before she could see what flickered across his face. The last thing he needed was to give her the satisfaction. For her to see his reaction. The girl shrugged. "Well, anyway, I'll be heading to class, bye!" She said, all jolly, acting as if she hadn't said anything bad.
Sorel watched her leave.
"That fucking bastard..." He wondered bitterly—eyes twitching like a madman. "I really hope not all nobles are like this. Or else it'd be a pain in the ass." He pondered, putting his hands in his pockets before walking down the hall.
Every step he made sent a loud vibration across the marble floor; he wasn't used to the satisfying noise, and it somewhat cooled his anger.
As Sorel was about to turn the corner, he heard loud steps that seemed to indicate that someone was running towards him.
"Who's that?" Sorel whispered before stopping and turning his head.
Bam.
Pain exploded behind his left eye. He sucked in a breath as his hand shot up, pressing hard against it. "Ow." He wondered—his hands still covering his eye. As the pain seemed to soothe, Sorel released his hand, staring down at the floor.
A boy was down on the floor, his hand covering his forehead from the bump. He wore the academy suit that the noble males wore. Silky white, embraced by gold. The boy raised his eyes, revealing sky-blue eyes that made Sorel take a step back. "Blue eyes..." He pondered. He's never seen them before.
The boy put his hands to the side. He pushed himself to his feet, his brown hair swinging to his sides as he brushed off the dirt in his pants with quick, impatient swipes. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.
"Im sorry, man." He said, bowing down. Sorel was shocked. A noble bowing down to him? This was a first.
"Oh, it's fine. I guess I should have been loo-"
"No, seriously, it's my fault, dude!" He erupts. Sorel's eyes widen. Is this noble being... kind to him as well? If so, this was the first time it happened, and it was quite unexpected.
"Oh. Ok." Sorel whispers, his head staring at the floor. The hall was silent, like a desert with no life. "Well, I'll take my leave then," Sorel mumbled before starting to step past the boy. He turned his head around, giving the boy one glance before moving on.
The boy suddenly grabbed Sorel by the back of his shirt.
"Hey, didn't grab your name." He inquires. Sorel looks back at him, narrowing his eyes.
"Oh. My name is Sorel Pax." He answers shyly, trying to smile to seem friendly.
The boy smiles. "Sorel," He repeated. "You're one of the special admissions, right?" Sorel was ready to be laughed at. What he wasn't ready for was a pat on the shoulder. "That's really cool! Well, my name is Infante Diego de Navarro. Call me Diego for short." Sorel's eyes narrow. "That's a long name. It sounds different." He wonders.
Diego softly punches Sorel's chest—sticking out his tongue after. Sorel feels a slight warmth in his chest. Diego suddenly waved his hand goodbye.
"I'll be going now. Im tardy for class and I might be in trouble. See ya!" Diego winks before sprinting across the hall, the silence earlier being filled with the noise of marbles contacting with feet.
Sorel smiled. Maybe. Maybe not all nobles are bad, and he can make some friends with them as well.
"Diego. Huh?" Sorel repeatedly whispered, trying to get familiar with his name. "I hope I see him some more." Sorel closed his red eyes and smiled. He turned around and continued the path that he planned to take earlier.
The room was black.
Not dim. Not shadowed. Just black—so dark it felt like the space itself swallowed light. The only thing visible was the long meeting table at its center, its surface faintly catching a dull sheen as if polished by years of use.
Chairs lined both sides, occupied, though the figures sitting in them were little more than silhouettes. No one spoke. Even breathing felt too loud in the stillness.
At the far end of the table, a single light flickered on.
It wasn't bright—just enough to reveal the man standing there.
Grey hair that was neatly kept. Middle-aged. His posture was straight, practiced, the kind that came from long years of being listened to. One hand rested on the table, fingers relaxed but unmoving, as if he had already claimed the room without needing to say a word.
The darkness seemed to pull back from him, drawing all attention forward. The others faded into the background, their presence reduced to quiet shapes at the edge of vision.
When he lifted his head, the room felt smaller.
He opened his mouth to speak.
"Get ready."